


welcome to red team

by spacershepards



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, RvB Bingo Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacershepards/pseuds/spacershepards
Summary: blue team has a freelancer, and now red team has one, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the rvb bingo wars, red team gets a freelancer. go red team! thanks to moop in the red team chat for one of donut's terrible euphemisms :)

“So,” says Simmons, “what did you say your name was?”

“Agent South,” she says.

“I thought... I thought Agent South Dakota was dead?”

“Nah,” says South, glancing over her shoulder. “Wash is _pretty_ bad at killing people. Or, them staying dead. Look at your friend Bagel, or whatever his name is. The one in the pink armor.”

“It's lightish _red_!” exclaims Donut, planting his hands on his hips. “And my name's Donut, not Bagel.”

“Right. Sorry. Don't get your panties in a twist,” says South, not sounding all that apologetic. She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, then glances at the one in red armor – Sarge, if she's remembering correctly. “So, what do you say?”

“I dunno, missy,” he says gruffly. His voice reminds her a little of the Director's. “You see, we don't need a Freelancer! These applications are closed.”

“Uh,” says Grif, “I wouldn't say that.”

“If we have to fight the Blues again... I don't really wanna have to fight Carolina or Wash,” Simmons says.

“Yeah! Agent Washington'll pound us _so_ good,” Donut says.

Both Grif and Simmons visibly wince.

Sarge grunts, changes his shotgun to the other hand. “Okay, okay. So what if we do want a Freelancer? What're you askin' for?”

“Nothing. I just -” She purses her lips beneath her helmet, thinking as quickly as possible. “You're all fucking _idiots_ , but I dunno. You seem pretty resilient.”

“Hmm,” says Sarge. “We'll think about it.”

“No, we won't!” says Grif. “I hate to say it, but Simmons and Donut are right!”

“Yeah,” says Sarge, “but she's purple!”

“Excuse me?” says South, crossing her arms. “I'm a Freelancer. Wash is on Blue Team, and he looks like a fucking _highway_.”

“Good point, but we don't want no non-Reds on our team. We don't want nobody who's not as good as us.”

“ _Ella es claramente mejor que todos ustedes_ ,” says the robot. Sanchez or something. She only recognizes _half_ of what he's saying.

“Sarge, if she joins Red Team, she'll be a Red,” Simmons says quietly, leaning towards Sarge.

South groans beneath her helmet. “Can you just make up your minds already? I can always, y'know, go see if Blue Team has any openings...”

“NO!” they all say. In perfect unison. It's actually _quite_ impressive.

“We'll take you!” Sarge practically yells.

South grins beneath her helmet. “Good. So where's your base?”

“We... we don't really have one,” says Simmons. “We used to, back at Crash Site -”

“Simmons, be quiet. Agent West Dakota here -”

“It's _South_ Dakota.”

“I'm from the USA, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Anyways, Agent West needs to learn 'bout us Reds, if she really wants to be part of Red Team.”

“There's no West Dakota,” says Grif, crossing his arms.

“I think there is,” says Simmons, clearly glaring at him.

A lover's feud, or something like that. South presses a hand to her visor. What the hell did she just sign up for?

* * *

“Hey, Blues! Guess what? We got our own Freelancer!”

Blue Team's a little smaller than Red Team, but not by much. Some guy in aqua, one in basic blue (who she remembers from _last_ time she saw Wash), and then the Freelancers. Supposedly, Wash's old AI, Epsilon, is with them, but South hasn't seen him yet. Maybe he's scared of the Reds. Theta probably would've been.

Wash and Carolina exchange a look.

“That doesn't make _any_ sense,” says Wash, loudly enough for South to hear him.

Sure, she's a _bit_ behind the Reds. Donut wanted a dramatic reveal, a la theatre-style. She's glad she can't sing for shit, otherwise she'd probably have an opening number. But that doesn't mean she can't hear them – or see them, for that matter.

“Yeah!” says Simmons, over excitedly. “And she's great!”

“She?” says Carolina, sounding amused.

“Yep! Agent West,” says Sarge.

“Wait. West _Virginia_? She's still alive? I thought she died when the _Mother of Invention_ went down,” says Wash. He sounds confused. South holds back a laugh. He'll probably see her and die of a heart attack or a stroke or something – she's not sure.

She may've backstabbed him, once, but he literally tried to kill her. Delta's fault. The Project's fault. Maybe at the very least, Carolina will understand.

It's funny, how there are only three Freelancers left now, and they're all with _these_ idiots.

“Nope!” says Sarge. “Agent West _Dakota_.”

“There is no West Dakota!” says Washington, his voice getting all high pitched at the end.

South pushes past Grif and Simmons to stand next to Sarge. “Yeah, but there's a _South_ Dakota.”

If Wash didn't have his helmet on, she'd say he looked like he was about to faint.

* * *

“How're you alive?” Carolina asks, crossing her arms.

She leans against the wall, glances at her hands for a second. “I'm not sure. Maybe my armor locked. Maybe I just... didn't die. I don't know. _Maybe_ you should ask the fuckbucket who tried to kill me.”

“I – look, I'm sorry,” says Wash, quietly. His helmet's caught under one arm, and she honestly can't believe how much he's aged in a few years. “I... I made a lot of mistakes.”

“You bet your ass you did! I could've died. Almost did, too. But this stupid medic found me and... saved my life. I owe him everything.”

“Wait... not... _Doc_?” asks Wash, looking incredulous.

“Sounds about right. Did he wear purple?”

“Oh my god. I _can't_ believe it. I wonder why he never...”

“Mentioned me? Probably 'cause I told him my name was...” She trails off. “Doesn't matter. But that's probably why.”

Carolina blinks. “This is too much of a coincidence.”

“Yeah, I'd say,” says South, rolling her eyes. “How'd you guys _both_ end up with this ragtag group of dumbasses?”

“It's a long story,” says Wash. “Let's save it for another time.”

* * *

“I can't believe it,” says Kimball. “They told me you were dead.”

“Can't believe they actually mentioned me,” says South, stretching. She turns towards the window, looks out over Chorus. It's a beautiful planet, _really_. She doesn't absolutely _hate_ that she crashed here. There were definitely worse places to crash. “Would've thought Wash wouldn't, y'know, want to remember he shot me.”

“He mentioned that.”

“So, you're like the president or something, huh?”

Behind her, Sarge says, “Kimball's the leader of the free world!”

“Sounds like a president.”

“Something like that,” muses Kimball. “ _Something_ like that.”

* * *

“If you're gonna be on Red Team, you need better armor!” says Donut, cocking one hip to the side. “I say we get you armor that's a bit more red than purple.”

“How about _no_?”

“C'mon, South! You wanna fit in with us, don't you? The Blues all match, we might as well!”

“My previous statement about Wash lookin' like a road still applies.”

“Wash doesn't count, he's a Freelancer. But you're not a Freelancer anymore, you're Red Team!”

“Wait – how is Wash still a Freelancer but I'm not?”

“Easy! You never tried to kill any of us!”

Oh, yeah. She'd almost forgotten that Wash tried to kill Donut. “Don't worry – I have no plans to kill any of you.”

“Good, because we would hate for that to happen. How about this shade?” Donut holds up a picture of armor that's... literally the exact same shade as her armor. Minus the green trim.

“Donut, I don't know if you're blind or something, but -”

“It's perfect!”

_Here we go_ , she thinks, and agrees that he should order it.

* * *

The Reds are so different from Project Freelancer that it's funny. The only things that are about the same are that 1) they all wear armor, 2) Grif and Simmons are _very_ much Carolina and York in the 'not admitting their real feelings' department, and 3) they have some very weird stories.

“- and then Grif bursts through on the Warthog and saves Sarge!”

“I could've saved myself,” says Sarge gruffly.

“But you didn't,” says Grif.

“But I could've!”

“Sarge, I'm sure you could've saved yourself! But then they saved me,” Simmons finishes. “Sadly, we had to leave Doc behind. And Donut was... well, we thought he was dead.”

“Yeah,” says Donut, sounding the tiniest bit pissed.

“Okay, but I don't see HOW this has anything to do with the fact that Sarge keeps taking my shotgun,” says South, trying to adjust so she’s more comfortable. Her chair feels oddly lumpy.  


“Well, the code word for that was 'shotgun,'” Simmons replies. “So...”

“Sure. But _I_ want _my_ shotgun back.”

Sarge sighs and hands her the shotgun he's carrying. “You can have mine instead, Agent South.”

“No, I want my shotgun.”

“I'm afraid I don't have it. I gave it to Dr. Grey.”

“Why?”

“She asked for it,” Sarge says, a bit too quietly.

“Oh, fuck. I'm gonna have to go get it from her, and she's gonna try to psychoanalyze me.”

“Grey's great!” says Doc.

South shakes her head. “Whatever. I'm gonna go get my shotgun.”

“You're sitting on the oreos,” says Grif.

Oh. So THAT'S what she was sitting on. South stands up. “Here, have 'em. I don't want 'em.”

As Grif starts to leave, he turns, looks back over his shoulder, and says, “by the way? Welcome to Red Team.”


End file.
